


first date (i met you)

by monyaka



Series: Maybe Interactive 2020 December Prompts [1]
Category: Royal Blood (Visual Novel)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, F/M, Maybe Interactive 2020 December Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27819745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monyaka/pseuds/monyaka
Summary: day 01: first dateon chloe's first date with andrew, she can't help but reflect on the first date they met.
Relationships: Andrew Russell/Chloe Taylor
Series: Maybe Interactive 2020 December Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035726
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	first date (i met you)

**Author's Note:**

> i just finished andrew's route yesterday and i have so many emotions... i planned to include more for this particular au, but i might change my mind and write more fics of their canon relationship. or who knows maybe i'll make more aus! i just love these two so much! they're in love!

violet’s always told chloe that she’s pretty, that it doesn’t make sense that she’s still single when she’s so pretty. but as chloe stands in front of the art gallery wrangling the strap of her handbag, it’s starting to dawn on her. she just doesn’t really trust guys. sure, there are handsome guys out there, and she doesn’t doubt that they’re nice, but… people say that you learn from your parents, and what she learned from hers is that men can act like they love you all they want, but the minute there’s any responsibility on the table, they’re running for the hills.

so, no. she doesn’t have high expectations for this date. or at least, she _shouldn’t_ . but she can still feel it — _ba-dump, ba-dump_ , the sound of her expectant heart. it’s so loud that she can feel it in her dry throat, and she finds herself wishing she brought some water along. and then she catches herself wondering if the art gallery is going to have a bar, and she’s pulling out her phone to check if there are any places to get a stiff drink nearby.

“oh my, have i kept you waiting?” 

the sound of his voice freezes her heart right there in her ribcage, a furious blush spreading across the blonde’s cheeks as she hurriedly pockets her phone. “n-not at all! i was just checking something.” she looks over to andrew, the charming guy she’d met just the other day with his simple attire and striking tattoo, and she can feel her heart thumping all over again.

it’s weird — when the two of them had met for the first time inside the tattoo parlour, she’d realized she was getting butterflies. her friend, violet, had decided she wanted to get a small tattoo in a hidden place, just to try it out. chloe herself had only gone for moral support, and she’d been bracing herself to walk into a seedy place with rusty needles, dirty tattooists, and grimy tables. but andrew’s place had been clean and artsy, even hosting an art wall that anyone could paint on. and because people paint all over it, it’s always a new work of art, slowly evolving, and slowly changing. she’d ended up chatting with andrew about this as that as he carefully outlined the tattoo, as he had meticulously coloured it in. and every time he looked over at her, she could feel her heart beating.

_“would you ever consider getting a tattoo yourself, chloe?”_

_“i don’t know. i’ve heard they’re addictive. like once you get one, you can’t stop. so it’s a big commitment to make, don’t you think?”_

_andrew had laughed then, a melodious and mischievous sound. “i wouldn’t know. i only have the one tattoo, after all. but the way i see it, tattoos are the ultimate mark of an artist. you use yourself as the canvas, and become a piece of living artwork.”_

she bites at her bottom lip, and andrew steps a bit closer to her, bringing out a bouquet of red roses. the colouring of them is a vibrant red, just like his tattoo. “i’m a little old-fashioned,” he laughs, and comes in to place the bouquet in her hands. “i hope you don’t mind. i just passed by a florist on the way here, and these roses were the most beautiful in the shop.”

_“do you do a lot of original pieces?”_ _chloe had asked that in the parlour, watching andrew’s sure hands and his serious expression. the mischief he’d shown her and violet earlier seemed to disappear entirely now that he was absorbed in the task, and chloe remembers thinking… that he looked handsome._

_he’d shaken his head, and a shadow had passed over his eyes. a sullen kind of expression, like he’s a sulking young boy. “hmm. not really. i usually just do whatever the customer asks for. this place tends to attract artists, so they often have a strong idea in mind already, and i just have to imagine it.”_

_“but do you ever paint on the art wall?”_

_andrew looks at her then, a strange look on his face. “no. never.”_

_and violet had said, “i heard that the original mural was your work, but no one can tell what it was originally now that it’s been painted over so many times.”_

_he’d smiled, and murmured, “ha. i wonder.”_

she’s brought back to reality when she realizes he’s staring at her, that he’s been waiting for her to answer a question that she hadn’t heard. “uh, sorry. what?”

maybe a part of her had been expecting him to be annoyed, to snap at her for not paying attention. but he doesn’t. he just smiles and places a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “i said, i’m excited to see the gallery your friends are hosting. are any of your pieces on display?”

she chokes a little on her words, hiding her lips under a fist made with her free hand. “um, one or two. come on, let’s go in.”

to her surprise, andrew doesn’t make a beeline for her own work. instead, he comments on each work they pass by, takes each one in with his attentive eyes, and keeps turning to her to check if she’s finished observing before the two of them move along. he’s not pushy either, not forcing her to hold hands, and she can’t help but flush when she thinks about how considerate he is. as if he’s not just here for her company, but also to share in the art.

_“to be honest, i used to major in fine arts. i ended up dropping out, though, and that’s when i started up this business.”_

_“can i ask why you dropped out?”_

_he turned to look at her then, and let out a soft laugh at her expression. “don’t look so sad, chloe. it breaks my heart.”_

she has to wonder… is he also here to rediscover his passion? someone passes by, and andrew whispers, “watch out, chloe.” his hand finds its way to the small of her back as he pulls her out of the path of the others, an unobtrusive touch that still makes her flush as bright as the roses in her hand. but then right as she’s out of danger, his hand slips away. both of them are red now, and chloe can’t help but think… how cute. his skin is pale and there are noticeable bags under his eyes, but he blushes just like anyone else.

the next time he touches her is when they stop in front of her painting. chloe isn’t sure if he’s even conscious of the way he reaches for her hand, the way he gently rubs on the back of her right hand, like he’s trying to massage away the stress of holding a brush. “you must have been sad, painting this,” he muses, and the sound of his voice is soft and miserable. “paintings are used to express all kinds of things: beauty, joy, peace, awe. but they’re also used to capture deep sadness. i can feel it in your brushstrokes, how lonely this painting is.” and he looks at the title card and repeats, “ _‘alice’_.” he whispers it to himself again, rolling it on his tongue and tasting the name. but he doesn’t ask her who alice is. he just keeps massaging her hand.

without even thinking, chloe’s moving closer to him, her heart pounding and her throat tight. even violet hadn’t said anything about her painting, had just said that it’s good, that the technique is there and how it’s a very _her_ kind of piece. but andrew bypasses technique entirely and speaks to her heart.

“i’d like to paint with you sometime,” he says, and his voice trembles a bit as he does. like he’s nervous — and chloe knows that it is, because it’s written all over his face. “your style is pretty similar to mine… so i might even be able to learn from you just by watching.” and chloe thinks for a second, just a second, that he might be a good model to paint. she almost offers it, says that he can be a model for her — but then her cheeks go red as she realizes that’s probably not what he meant. and he laughs, like he’s read her mind. “maybe i can even model nude for you.”

she shoves him and laughs, and he laughs too. “i’m kidding, i’m kidding! don’t hit me!”

their time at the gallery is bright and filled with laughter and memories. but once they step into the night air, chloe realizes that andrew’s carrying a note of sadness in his posture. “it’s getting late,” he remarks mournfully, looking at the moon high up in the sky. “if it weren’t, i would have invited you over for a glass of wine.”

“wine?” she says, and andrew grins at her. like he can see how interested she is, like he can gaze past her exterior and into her soul. it should feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t. no, it feels as warm and natural as it had when they’d met in the tattoo parlour, when they were commenting on the art in the gallery.

but he shakes his head and says, “next time. did you take the bus here? i’ll pay for a taxi home, if you want.” and he does, even though she flushes and says it’s not necessary. he’s adamant about how unsafe the buses can be at night, and he insists that he wouldn’t be human if he let her go alone so late at night. when the car gets there, he helps her inside with a hand he pretends isn’t reluctant to let her go, and he leans inside the taxi with a warm look in his eye. her heart is beating. faster and faster as he leans in. she feels the softness of his lips against her forehead, and he whispers, “until next time.”

and as he watches the taxi drive off, he heads back inside the gallery.

—

“how much is ‘alice’?” 

the gallery owner was composed and professional — just the way andrew likes it. maybe chloe wouldn’t know it because she doesn’t see him around others, but he just doesn’t like to flirt with others. he’s mischievous, and his brothers call him devilish sometimes, but that’s where it ends. it’s just mischief. but with chloe, it doesn’t end there.

“alice, by chloe taylor.” the owner hums and starts to process the payment.

he stands, later, in his apartment, a thousand poorer in wallet but millions richer in soul. he breathes out a shaky exhale and pulls out a canvas from the back of his closet. but his eyes fall to the tattoo on his forearm, rich and brilliant and a stark reminder of all he’s given up.

and andrew’s heart starts to beat.


End file.
